I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The office was spacious but not ostentatious—floor-to-ceilingwindows offering a wide view of the city. My eyes swept over everything, hungry for traces of the life she’d built without me. Framed certificates lined one wall—awards for business excellence. There were photographs of her shaking hands with executives, cutting ribbons at grand openings. In every picture, she looked confident, powerful, and successful.
I moved toward the large white oak desk in the center. It was organized but looked lived in—a laptop, stacks of files, a coffee mug with a faint lipstick stain on the rim. A few personal items stood on the desk, neatly arranged: a silver pen, a leather-bound planner, and a deep blue silk handkerchief.
I couldn’t help myself. I picked it up, brought it to my face, and inhaled.
It carried her scent—a scent I’d been clinging to for years, one that had haunted me every night as it faded a little more.
My wolf whimpered, desperate and aching.
Then my eyes caught a photograph in a simple frame, partially hidden behind her laptop.
It was Isabella. And a child.
It was a little girl with dark hair and brown eyes, maybe four or five years old, laughing up at the camera. Isabella crouched beside her, both of them covered in paint, grinning like they’d just had the best day of their lives.
My heart stopped.
I picked up the frame, staring at the child’s face. She had my dark brown eyes. The same defined jawline. The same stubborn set to her chin that I saw in the mirror every morning. My entire being stilled.
Before I could process the image staring back at me, the door burst open. A child ran in—the same little girl from the photograph—dark hair flying behind her as she giggled and darted toward the desk. A harried woman, whom I presumed to be her nanny, followed, breathing heavily.
“Adele, please! You can’t run off like that!”
“I told you that you can’t beat me at hide and seek!” Her voice was bright and bubblingwith laughter.
And then, as though they both sensed my presence, they turned to look at me.
When her eyes landed on me, they went wide. I don’t know how many seconds passed—maybe it was actually minutes. But we just remained like that, as though the world had come to a complete standstill.
And in that moment, I knew.
Wolf shifters had a keen sense for many things. We could sense, with an instinct that preceded conscious thought, our pack, our own blood. My wolf surged forward, recognition slamming into me so hard it nearly drove me to my knees. Something primal and absolute flared inside me.
My daughter. This girl was mine.
She stepped forward confidently, tilting her head as she studied me with curious eyes. Then she smiled, jutting her small arm forward.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Adele. Who are you?”
I crouched, bringing myself to her eye level. My throat was so tight I could barely speak.
“I’m Dimitri,” I managed. “It’s…it’s very nice to meet you, Adele.”
Her smile widened, and something in my chest cracked open.
“I know that name.”
I arched a brow. “You do?”
“It sounds like a prince’s name. From one of Mommy’s stories.”
“Your mommy tells you stories?” Stories about me, apparently.
Adele nodded eagerly. “All the time. She does all the voices and everything. She’s really good at the dragon voice.” She paused. “Do you know my mommy?”
“I…yes. I do.”